


The Baba Yaga Affair

by cosmosmariner



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Halloween, M/M, Trick or Treating, silly stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:31:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmosmariner/pseuds/cosmosmariner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween night and Napoleon has to take over candy duties from Illya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Baba Yaga Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my writing journal 10/29/10
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this cute little story! I miss dressing up and passing out treats to the neighborhood kids. They don't come here any more. So, I've decided to let Napoleon and Illya have my Halloween fun for me. ENJOY!

Napoleon wondered, for the millionth time that evening, if it was a good idea to dress up like a vampire and answer the door at Illya’s apartment on Halloween night. Illya had asked him to, since he was laid up with a broken ankle for another week. He couldn’t very well hop to the door every time a child knocked on it.

Illya’s apartment building had many more children living in it than Napoleon’s did. In all the years that he had lived in his home, Napoleon could count on one hand the number of kids who had come by asking for candy. This would be a new…interesting…experience for him.

The beginning of the evening started out slowly; a handful of tykes came by and chanted the all-too-familiar refrain. Napoleon swished his cape around, smiled at the children and their parents who accompanied them to the door. It wasn’t too bad, although dressing up made him feel silly. Sometimes Illya would ask who had come to the door, and what their costumes were. Napoleon didn’t know any of the children’s names, but he did take account of the costumes.

“There’s been a few princesses, a couple of cats, and some sort of cowboy.”

“Lovely. It’s so fun to see the children and their imaginations,” Illya replied. “I’m sorry I’m missing it.”

Napoleon shook his head. Strange that his partner, who wasn’t the celebratory type in many ways, made such a fuss over Halloween. Maybe sometimes deep in his heart, Illya wanted to be a child again. Or maybe he just enjoyed dressing up in ridiculous costumes?

A firm knock on Illya’s door meant that another group of kids were waiting to scream out their demands for tricks or treats. Napoleon grabbed the Pyrex bowl full of candy and popcorn balls and opened the door.

“Mmuuuuwwwaaahhahah! Who dares disturb my slumber on Halloween night?” Napoleon said in a mock Bela Lugosi voice.

Standing at the door was a Lone Ranger, a chicken, a Bride of Frankenstein and a bed sheet with holes cut out of it, which Napoleon took to be a ghost. The Bride frowned. “Hey! Where’s Mr. K?”

“Mr. K?” Napoleon said. “You mean, Illya?”

“Yeah, Mr. K usually answers the door,” the Lone Ranger replied. “Did he move away?”

Napoleon shook his head. “No, children, I’m afraid that Illya is not feeling well today. He asked me to answer the door for him instead.”

The children all sighed. The chicken, a tiny little freckle faced boy, stuck his cardboard beak between the ghost and the Bride and looked up at Napoleon. “Who are you? Are you a friend of Mr. K’s?”

“Yes, kids. I’m Illya’s very best friend, and my name is Count Solo.”

The Bride, a willowy girl whose bright red hair kept sticking out of her wig, smiled at Napoleon. She was missing three front teeth. “Mistuh K came to tha doouh last yeauh dwessed like Bwabawaga.”

“Who?”

“Bwabawaga! Tell Count Sowo, Joe.”

Joe - who was apparently also known as the Lone Ranger - smiled at the Bride, then looked up at Napoleon. “She means Baba Yaga. Mr. K had a terrible wig and a ratty old dress last year, and underneath he was wearing chicken feet.”

The chicken shook a foot at Napoleon. “He gave ‘em to me this year so I could be a chicken.”

“So, Mr. K wore a dress and wig last year?” Napoleon asked, barely hiding his laughter. “What else did he do?”

The Bride giggled. “He told us he was gonna EAT us, Mistuh Count!”

“Eat you? You mean with vampire teeth like mine?” Napoleon grinned a little wider, revealing two fangs that he had stuck onto his teeth with bubble gum.

The ghost screamed. Joe, the oldest kid, smacked the ghost on the back of the head. “Shut up, Maisie. They ain’t real.”

Illya called out from the sofa. “Napoleon, are those my children?”

“Mr. K! Mr. K!” the kids shrieked.

“I love you, Mistuh K!” said the Bride.

“Oh, come in here, kids,” Illya said loudly. The children rushed into the apartment, chattering excitedly.

They walked into Illya’s living room. The ghost stood near the doorway while the other children crowded around the sofa. “Mr. K, how do you like our costumes this year?” asked the chicken.

He smiled appreciatively at the kids. “Very fine chicken costume, Jerry. And you, Marion. The Bride of Frankenstein?”

Marion - the Bride - smiled and blushed as red as her natural hair. “Mom made it from an old pillow and spray paint!” she said as she pointed to the wig.

“It’s very good, isn’t it, Napoleon?”

Napoleon was staring at the ghost and only heard his name. “Huh? Oh, yes, Illya.”

Illya craned his neck toward the door. “Is that you, Maisie?” The ghost’s head moved, causing the sheet to sway. “Come closer, little one.”

Napoleon walked closer to the little girl and bent down. “You aren’t afraid of Mr. K, are you? Or are you afraid of me?”

Maisie’s sheet vibrated. Napoleon reached into his mouth and extracted the two fake fangs. He smiled again, a soft, genuine smile. “See, Maisie? I’m not really a vampire. I won’t hurt you or Mr. K. I promise. I’ll shake on it?”

He stuck his hand out to the little girl, and a sheeted hand was placed in his. They shook, but the ghost’s hand was still in Napoleon’s. He drew her away from the door and closer to Illya, but then they heard the children's mother calling from the hallway.

“Maisie? Joe? Jerry? Marion? Where are you?”

“In here, Mom!” replied Joe, who gathered his brother and sisters. “We’d better go, Mr. K. Count Solo.”

“Goodbye, kids! Come by again soon,” said Illya.

Maisie raised her little voice. “Goodbye, Mr. K! Goodbye, Count Solo!”

Napoleon smiled at the youngsters and delivered them back to their mother. He gave them an extra piece of candy and closed the door. When he walked back into the living room, he threw a popcorn ball at his friend.

“Baba Yaga?”

Illya took a bite of the treat. “It’s fun. They seem to enjoy it.”

“I’m just curious about the dress…”

Illya smiled. “Maybe later, Napoleon, you will also find time for Halloween festivities?”

Napoleon raised his cape over his face, leaving only his eyes to peer out at his friend. “And vat is a trick and vat is a treat, my dear Illya? Mmmwhahahaha!”

His partner laughed. “The fun thing about Halloween, my friend, is that you can choose what you want,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Napoleon decided it was fun to trick or treat.


End file.
